Read Online Adversaries Together by Daniel Casey - Free Book Online Page B

travelled the coastline, and the few fisher folk that remained
had reverted to hunting sea-rats (the gulls that coveted the filth
of the city) and digging for snails and clams (a dwindling resource
as well). The bay was dying, the water becoming sick and stagnant.
Even in his forgotten corner, Wynne was only surviving thanks to
the disgusting tiny black snails at the base of the lighthouse and
the dwindling supply of goosefoot he had scavenged. He had lost
nearly three stone. The simooms and The Blockade were squeezing the
life out of the city, out of him. He had spent the year dying.
    This night was colder than usual, so Wynne
decided to risk a fire. He set a small burn in the furnace of the
watch room below the light room. The warmth was welcome and he
began to doze off. Not long before the dawn he snapped awake,
convinced he had heard some crash below. He sat still like some
timid, trapped animal. Then he heard the crash again coming from
outside and definitely against the building. For a moment, he
panicked—he was weak, thin, and alone, but then he remembered he
was the only one that knew this. Tossing his blanket aside, he
reached for his spearbow, and crawled over to the window nearest
the sound.
    Opening the shutters with the tip of his
spearbow, he heard the crash again, this time accompanied by a
series of curses. Someone was out there. Using the shutter as a
kind of blind, he peered down in the direction of the ruckus. There
were three men wearing what appeared to be the uniform of the
civic. They were trying to pry open the main door to the keeper
den. They wouldn’t get far. After the fall of the municipal when he
had first arrived at the lighthouse he’d chained the main doors on
the outside and then barred the den from the inside (entering from
the tunnel that connected it to lighthouse proper). Soon, they’d
realize the keeper den was a dead end and start to look for a way
into the tower.
    These men might not be scavengers, their
uniforms weren’t pristine but they were still well kept, the red
and grey.
    Were these the real
thing? He wondered. Can I take that chance?
    He didn’t want to lose another home, but he
knew he couldn’t wait this out. He needed to take action.
Outnumbered, he still had a tactical advantage—he knew the terrain.
He leaned out the window onto the gallery and took aim. His shot
lodged into the main door of the keeper den, the harpoon stood out
well above the heads of the men. It did what he wanted—it shocked
them. The men leapt back and crouched, two drew their short swords
while the third turned to look directly to where Wynne was.
    “ That’s enough of that.”
Wynne called down having already loaded another harpoon.
    Raising his hands the unarmed man’s face was
one of panic, “Wait. Wait. We’re not here to fight…”
    “ Then why are you here? Why
are you bashing our door in?” He hoped they noticed it; he had to
make them think he was a multitude or else he’d be over
run.
    “ We don’t want any trouble
with you all in there.” The unarmed man called up as one of the men
holding a sword spoke over him, “How many of you are left in
there?”
    “ Then move on.” Wynne
called down.
    “ We can’t do that. We need
to talk to Wynne Landis.”
    He winced; it had been a long time since
anyone had said his name and felt even longer since anyone had
needed him for anything, “Who are you, then? Who are you to
him?”
    The unarmed man stepped closer his voice less
worried and calmer now, “We’re from the remaining civics,
we’re…”
    Wynne shot another harpoon that struck the
ground a few steps in front of the unarmed man. “Close enough,” he
called down.
    The man stared at the harpoon but kept
speaking, “We need Landis. The Alders have one last plan to save
the city and they need him.”
    The men with swords stepped closer to the
speaker muttering something that Wynne couldn’t make out, but he
could tell that from their body language and tone they